Patience is a Virtue
by Rosetta Stone
Summary: Mary loses her husband, but with a son to raise she must overcome greif and become an investigative reporter once more. Her inquisitiveness annoys her fatherinlaw, and especially Team Seven's Leader, Larabee. But then again, the feeling is mutual.
1. The Simpilicities of Life

Women. We're supposed to be the patient ones, right? We're supposed to take care of the kids and our husbands in the morning, send them off to work and school, then...wait. Wait for them to come home; making busy little bees of ourselves with our own careers, cooking, cleaning, doing the laundry, washing the dishes, perhaps make a little down time for ourselves and then, wait. If we wait long enough, the kids come home, wanting their snacks and juice, their games or t.v. We accommodate them, love on them, pressure them into doing their homework -before- they watch their favorite cartoon, all the while secretly taping it, so that they really don't miss it. Half of your family is home, and you start making dinner, and if you're lucky enough to be so in love with your husband that the anticipation of him walking through that door still sends shivers up your spine, you start planning for activities for after the little monsters are tucked away in bed. So you wait some more. You'd wait for hours, days, forever; wouldn't you?

What if he never came home?

You're just sitting there, after you've done all this waiting, angry because the idiot hasn't called, he hasn't even bothered to page you. Dinner is cold, and you've already sent your son up to his room to play, and then to bathe. Of course you remember, he won't bathe on his own, and eventually you drag yourself all the way upstairs to wrestle the little monster into the tub. (A little monster who is surprisingly strong for being all of five years old.) For a while, you forget your anger, giggling with the child as he splashes in the water.

Drenched; so much so that you're pretty certain you've had a bath as well, you hear the phone start ringing. Amazing since the nearest phone is downstairs and you're locked away in the upstairs bathroom. However; relief swells and surges through your veins, leaving you weak. Racing your child down the stairs, carefully, you win, with being a grown-up and having longer limbs. You pick up the phone before the answering machine can answer it, still laughing at the pout your son gives you. You're so sure it's him. He's running late; a tire blew, or more than likely, he's been held up at work, but you hear a very slight pause. Before this voice can speak, you already know. It's not him. He's not the one about to tell you that something has gone terribly wrong, and suddenly, you're the most frightened you've ever been. You can feel your heart, it actually slows, growing quite still, and you feel cold.

You can read into the tone of the voice that speaks, a microsecond later, the apologetic yet business like timber, someone you don't even know. Just as suddenly, your fear disappears, replaced by anger again. What could your husband be so afraid of that he would have some stranger call you to tell you whatever it was that he had managed to get tangled up in?! You let the poor soul get all of three or four words out before you cut him off entirely. Your husband is an under cover agent, a good one, and he's been training a new one for another team in his organization. You've met the rookie, had him over a couple of times for dinner. He's a nice kid, has that same fire your husband does when talking about the job. At least his friend could have called!

"Where is John?" you demand, in that tone everyone knows. That tone that means step lightly. Even your son goes quiet, and still. He suspects something too. You brush the still, dripping wet strands of his unruly hair (weren't you supposed to take him to the barber?), out of his eyes and motion for him to go back upstairs to get dressed in his pajamas. He wisely obeys. The voice of the man you're speaking to becomes strained.

"Mrs. Travis...I have some terrible news. I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but your husband was shot and killed in the line of duty, an hour ago."

It's so quick, you barely have time to register what he's saying, as if he figured the quicker you heard it, the less it might hurt. Like a band-aid. For a minute, you simply don't believe him. It's absurd! You could probably handle your husband in the hospital, injured, shot in the leg, even in a coma, or some such thing; but for him to be...dead? The implications were beyond 'terrible', beyond horrible and painful. It meant the end, forever. You start arguing. He must have the wrong Johnathan Travis, he had to be mistaken..well then the doctors were mistaken, or they were playing some sort of cruel trick on you, and why doesn't he just -check- to make bloody well sure that he isn't wrong!?

Obscurely; you're wondering if this isn't April Fool's Day, but you remember that it's almost Thanksgiving, no where near April. Suddenly, you're swearing, something normally reserved for those moments when you're alone in the car, in the middle of the interstate, trying to keep yourself from being killed by all those maniacs out there. This strange man can't talk any sense into you, and he gives up. It's a woman, gone hysterical of course. You're yelling now, that he's lying, and that he better allow you to speak to your husband right this second or there was going to be hell to pay! A bit melodramatic, but the phone, indeed, changes hands. Ready to rant and rave at your foolish spouse for letting some stranger tell you a load of crap, you wait for him to speak first, ready for that apology that comes before anything else, signifying that he knows he really screwed up this time. There's a familiar voice, but it's not the one you wanted.

"Mary, my girl..."

It's your husband's father. You hear the pain in his voice, the pain only another parent could understand, and you know. Deep down, right to your core, it slams into place. He's really gone. His father would never go along with a prank like this, Hell, you know your husband better! HE wouldn't stand for it either!

You're father-in-law is relating the story, something about a case, something about bad men and some newly exposed drug ring, or weapons, you aren't really paying attention. Staring at nothing has much more precedence. With morbid fascination, you take the time to examine exactly what you're feeling.

Betrayal is a big one. Though you can't really say who or what betrayed you, husband or God? You feel like you're falling, hard and fast, and even though the ground can't be seen, you know it's coming, and you know that you're going to crash into it. You realize that you knew all along, and if you didn't, you should have! You should have known the moment he was in danger, the moment-!

You're cracking, and you catch yourself before you can head into a real, downward tailspin, because a faint; "What's wrong, mommy?" comes into your head. You aren't even aware of the silent tears streaming down your cheeks. You see the future in your little boy, this little soul, who you helped create a body for, with the man you planned on spending the rest of your life with. The future is already starting to look bleak...but now isn't the time. That nurturing instinct comes into play. You hang up the phone, whether your father-in-law is still talking or not. You pick up you son; you precious bundle of warmth and affection, who you were just scolding a few hours before, for not picking up his toys. You take him to the huge recliner that he and his daddy always sit in. The same one in which you and his daddy cuddle, when watching late night television, or a scary movie. You set him on your lap, and hug him closely.

"Baby, do you believe in angels?"

A stupid question. Inquiring about the religious beliefs of a six year old was about as smart as questioning those of a rebellious sixteen-year-old, since reasoning with them was beyond the patience of a saint.

"You mean like the ones that work for God?"

You can only nod, not trusting your voice, because right this second, you loathe the Almighty. How could God; benevolent as He supposedly is, stand by while you try to explain to a child why his father won't ever see him again? Finally, you speak again.

"Do you know how angels are made?"

Shaking, in body and voice. Your baby, shaking his head dutifully.

"Doesn't God make them? Like He made us?"

You have to smile, such a good boy he is. You've read him bits of the Bible, not ready to force religion upon him, but letting him wet his feet in it as he likes. The two of you adults had decided your child would be better off if he came into his Faith on his own, it would be purer and stronger that way.

"Not exactly, sweetie. There are a few, that God created for specific purposes, and He keeps them close to His side. There are others though, many, many others."

You're rocking now, settled back into the huge chair, and he's listening.

"There are many types of Angels, and one of them is called a Guardian Angel. You know anything about them?"

A nod is given, so you continue.

"Well, God needs lots of Guardian Angels, so every body on Earth can have one to protect them. When we die, we go up to Heaven if we're very good. Well, all the men and women who made it their jobs to protect people when they were alive, are asked if they'd like to keep doing that."

"What kinds of people?"

"People like fire-fighters, rescue workers, police officers, agents...honest lawyers..."

It was a weak joke, and you're the only one who gets it. You also realize that you're making all of this up off the top of your own, foolish, guilt-ridden head, but you can't stop. Despite the fact that you're pretty sure God can't possibly exist, your faith shaken to the very core, doesn't mean that you can't conjure a fairy-tale to comfort your son, to keep his faith strong, whatever it might be.

"People like Daddy."

A statement, so eerily wise, but here came the really hard part.

"Exactly, baby, people just like daddy. In fact, daddy was so good down here that he's just been made into a Guardian Angel by God. In fact, he's probably getting his Angel badge right now."

A frown furrows such a young brow.

"But...does that mean daddy's not coming back?"

You choke back a sob, and clutch him hard against you. You're both crying, but you are the one who has to give comfort. You know that he knows the answer, and you can feel his fear..it's your own fear, mirrored and intensified. Daddy was the protector. Oh yes, he was the formidable figure that frightened away the monsters under the bed and kept them back. A Knight-in-shining...tin foil, as you two had joked on so many occasions. Now; Mommy has to be the Knight, the warrior and the protector. Mommy doesn't know if she can do that, and her son knows it. So, simply, you sit there..and continue to wait.

A day or so passes and you go through the motions of life, finally unable to avoid the fact of the funeral. The day is warm and cloudless, odd for a November this far North, but you don't notice. It's all somber and grey to you. Your husband, your life partner, is laid to rest underneath the ground..and you don't know which is worse. That he'll be sleeping alone, or that -you- will be.

Your father-in-law comes up to you, with his wife. Both of them have understandably puffy eyes, tears still streaming down your mother-in-law's face. There's talk about how beautiful the priest's words were, the service, and the flowers. In your head; you're raging. Screw the flowers! The priest doesn't know one god-damned thing, and certainly not about the man you loved! Beautiful!? This is the most wretched day on Earth! The Angels in Heaven should be weeping, it -should- be raining with their tears! God Himself should be balling his eyes out for the pain He's caused because you simply can't shed another!

Orin offers to take Billy for a few days, to allow you to recuperate. Kind of them, but jealously you consider saying no. Billy's all you have left..the only thing keeping you from joining your husband, something you're afraid you'll resent him for. So yeah...it's probably a good idea that Billy visits his grandparents for a little while..they need him too. Then you'll have time..time in which you can blame the deceased, and yourself, for your current pains. Days of desolation and nights of agony. Billy is pulling away from you, anxious to see someone, something other than your crying face..and that hurts. However; you hold that nettle of pain close, because it proves you can still feel something. You crouch down and give Billy a kiss, moving to let go and head toward your car..which you probably shouldn't be driving, not in your condition. Suddenly, your son grabs you.

"Mommy...I'm gonna talk to God and see if'en I can't fire my Guardian Angel."

Bewildered; you ask the most obvious question, forgetting all about the story you had told him not a few days before.

"Why?"

Angry tears spring into his eyes, and he gets that pinched face her normally acquires when he's about to pull one of his huge fits. "And I'm gonna fire yours too!" Actually frightened at what all this has done to him, you grab his shoulders and give him a gentle shake, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Billy! What are you talking about? Why would you do such a thing?"

Another stupid question. He couldn't -really- do it, could he?

"So's I can hire Daddy! So's Daddy can take care of us like he's 'posed to!"

Billy's crying fiercely now, shaking in your hands. Pain lacerates your already tortured soul, but you hold him tightly again, tighter than ever before. "You do that baby...as soon as you can, I can't wait..."

That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? Waiting...again with the waiting. Wait for the kids to grow up, wait to get old so you can die to and join your loved ones in the great beyond. But; what if that's not -quite- what happens? What if God, or Fate, has something else in mind? What if you're given another chance? Another Angel, albeit a difficult one? Well..I suppose you're still in the same boat..you just have to wait and see...


	2. Disciple of Truth

It was Wednesday morning, and Mary was on her way to Orin Travis' office. Dressed in a smart, blue-grey dress suit with matching heels, she walked the halls briskly, evading remodeling contractors and construction workers. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a fashionable bun, and her pale face had just a hint of make-up. She was a rather beautiful woman, and she was noticed all the way toward the Director's offices. She; however, barely acknowledged any of these men existed. She was intent on Travis, so intent on him, and her apology, that she didn't notice a tall stranger heading out of Orin's office just as she was heading in. Bumping, in an almost head on collision, she immediately began to apologize in a contrite manner. When she looked up, she realized who she was talking to. Chris Larabee.

He was handsome, in a cold, calculating way, and his blue eyes were sharp shards of the coldest ice. There was no humanity left in this man, no warmth. When he saw her, he seemed to recognize her as well, and he wasn't happy.

"You're the journalist that's been nosing around where she's not welcome." he said, without preamble.

She arched a delicate brow, schooling her face to be impassive. As far as she was aware, he was only appraised of her efforts to get interviews and maybe some of her searches within police files, but other than that..she had been very careful to go unnoticed by the authorities. Some of her resources weren't the most wholesome. It came with the territory. So, since she didn't know how much he knew, she kept her answer vague.

"I might have made a few inquiries." she admitted.

His jaw clenched, almost imperceptibly. "If you've got questions, ask them, but ask me."

"If you'll recall, I was endeavoring to do just that, and I was turned away...many times, I might add."

"You were asking about Standish, and he's not up for review. I won't have his security compromised because of your curiosity. Now, I'm willing to let you pick the brains of my other men, even me, but leave Standish alone. Do we understand each other?"

Mary blinked languidly at him, and shook her head slightly. Would no one understand?

"Suffice it to say that yes, I understand you. Whether you understand -me- or not is debatable, and highly unlikely. Now, if you'll excuse me."

With that, she bypassed him entirely and headed into Orin's office. She couldn't see the look on Chris' face, but she knew the Team Leader was not used to people walking away from him with blatant disregard for him, or his words. This pleased her immensely, and she was in a much better mood for apologizing to Orin.

Mary rushed home Friday afternoon, glancing at her watch every few minutes. Traffic in downtown Denver was absolutely atrocious, and there ended up being an accident. She was late getting home and this wouldn't make things any better. She pulled into an alley and got onto yet another road that would take her home, if in a round-about way. She was in such a rush, because Billy was home alone. Not only he, but his little friend from school.

Actually, Eric was the six year old son of a secretary that worked in the ATF offices, a young woman Mary had befriended. She was currently dating Buck Wilmington, and had been an excellent source of information, as well as a lovely hand in the kitchen. She was fun to talk to, and a charming hostess as Mary and Billy had been to their apartment many times over the last few weeks. Unlike most of the little beauties Buck got involved with, Jessica had no expectation that this would last. Having lost her husband, Eric's father in an ugly divorce two years ago, she was merely 'getting back into the saddle', and she was fond enough of Buck without falling head over heels for him. Mary liked a woman with some sense, and Buck wasn't a bad sort really. A trifle frivolous, but there were worse things for a man to be.

The point was, that Billy was eleven, keeping track of a six year old, and while Billy was very responsible, Eric was known to get into trouble when his mother wasn't present. Since his mother was working late tonight, and the two boys rode the bus home together anyway, Mary had said that Eric could just stay with Billy until Mary got home as well. Mary usually got home only a half hour after her son...but today just hadn't gone the way she had liked.

She still hadn't been able to dig up anything on Standish, and it was fairly driving her insane. When would she get a break? Was it too much to ask? And what was she going to feed the boys tonight?

God..her mind kept switching topics, but always it came back to Standish and his ability to evade her. And thinking about Standish made her think about his insufferable Team Leader, Chris. That almost always made her frown. Despite the small victory she had won over him while going to see Orin for lunch, she'd had little chance to talk to him since. Other stories kept coming up, there were other deadlines to meet, and it had been weeks since that encounter. She sighed a little, pulling into a parking space, the closest available, and turned off her car. Racing from her car and to the apartment building, she took two stairs at a time, even in her high heels, and checked the door. She and Billy had, had many conversations about coming home and locking the door immediately. He was not to open it to anyone, whether they knocked or not. Mary, and Orin both had a key, and they were the only ones that Mary trusted with her son. He was her life..and she guarded him as such.

The door was locked, and she didn't smell anything burning. So far, so good. She unlocked the door and let herself in, then shut and locked it again. While not the worst neighborhood, it wasn't the best either. She looked around and saw Billy coming from the living room, followed by the red-headed, freckled Eric. Eric was his mother's son, as they shared hair and eye color. His eyes were a dark hazel in color, a jade green liberally run through with light brown. He was cute now, he would be gawky later, and then he would be a heart throb. She could tell this already, like she could tell that her own son would be the athletic looking guy who hid the fact that he could read at all, much less liked it. Billy came and hugged his mother, and Eric grinned happily enough. She ruffled his hair and went to the fridge. "You boys being good?"

Eric giggled, and Billy shook his head. He was trying to teach Eric how to act like a cool big kid. As, next year, Billy would be leaving Elementary behind forever, and entering Middle School. Oi, Mary didn't like to think about it. It made her feel old, and that he was growing up, and she couldn't have that.

"We're playing Champions of Norrath on the Playstation, I'm teaching Eric how to use all the buttons." was Billy's innocent reply. Mary nodded a little and began taking things out for dinner. She thought sloppy joes would serve nicely for the two boys, and indeed, when she pulled out the fixings for such a meal, both sets of eyes lit up. They loved anything meaty and messy...men. They were all alike.

"How was your day?" came Billy again, sliding onto a chair at the tiny, dining room table. Eric followed, taking another chair. The two of them filled the table for the most part, and she sighed a little. Recovering quickly, she grinned. This question was merely an opening for a traditional response. "Fine, how was yours?"

Both boys began to recount the lunchroom brawl between some bully and another kid who had finally had enough. Mary nodded a little, smirking, secretly rooting for the other kid all the while making sure the boys knew that fighting served no purpose other than to spread the belief that fighting was acceptable, and of course it wasn't. Rolling eyes and groans were the answer to this, but she was used to it and knew that they might well listen to her and thereby avoid trouble. Because of tragedies, schools were becoming so strict on kids; that a harmless little fight that would have been ignored for the most part in her day, would be treated as if both parties were the product of an abusive household. Next came new computers games, which led to a side note of what the newest Playstation game Billy most needed and that Mary would have to buy, and then some other things, and a little about what had actually transpired in class. She listened to all of it with half an ear, quite happy to lose herself in making dinner and their constant chatterings until a very familiar name came into the conversation, most nonchalantly. Ezra...and something about a broom?

"Hold on. What was that last part?" She turned and saw that both boys had stopped speaking altogether, and were now looking around guiltily. Billy looked more angry than anything, and Eric looked embarrassed. Mary cleared her throat suggestively and waited. Billy began to respond; "You know Mom, one of those long, hairy push brooms-" but Mary cut him off with a shake of her head.

"No no no...Ezra was where?"

Both boys were quite familiar with Team Seven, thanks to Orin and Eric's mother. Billy saw the whole team regularly, even spoke with Ezra, whom she wasn't even allowed to see half the time. She caught him in passing and he always rushed past and said absolutely nothing. Not even hello.

Billy was of the impression that these seven men were the coolest things on earth. As if they were toys...and Buck and JD might as well be, for all the romping around the office they did. Mary had seen it with her own eyes, their childish antics. Vin was no better with his little rubber-dart gun and a secret supply of ketchup..and woe to the person walking past when Tanner was bored, especially if they were wearing white. Josiah and Nathan, Mary approved of without a doubt. Josiah told Billy all about ancient Greece and Rome, whetting Billy's appetite for history and the arts. Being a boy, he liked the more gruesome tales, but at least it was history. Nathan had passed along some first aid information, and he was quite capable of taking care of Eric's scraped knees and such, as well as his own. Mary would have liked to keep tending them herself, but she knew he was getting an independent streak. Ezra was the most fun out of all of them, as he was a master magician who pulled five dollar bills out of their ears, to heck with the quarters, and did neat tricks with his cards. Also Ezra had the best words, and Billy repeated them, completely without the knowledge that most of them were rather descriptive and mean. Mary was certain Ezra used these words around her son, knowing she would hear them, and become angry. From all the accounts that she had heard, she was convinced that Ezra Standish was not happy unless making someone else miserable..covertly, of course.

Chris was as much of a mystery to Billy as he was to his mother. Chris seemed to watch over Billy, and even to tolerate him, but they rarely spoke, and he kept himself distanced. Mary suspected why, and so never said a word about it.

At Mary's inquiry, both boys remained silent. "William Travis, out with it. Where did you see Ezra, and what was he doing?"

"We're not 'posed to tell." came Eric. Billy pinched him, and Mary crossed her hands over her chest. She fixed her gaze on her son, and finally he sighed in exasperation. "Alright..but you can't tell anybody."

Rolling her eyes, Mary nodded. "Promise?" came Eric.

"Yes, Eric, I promise." Neither of them appeared satisfied, but Billy continued.

"Ezra was at school today, dressed up like a janitor, with a broom."

The picture of Ezra P. Standish in anything other than Armani, -with- anything other than a cell phone in hand was laughable, but this janitor get up was priceless. The mental image had Mary chuckling. She once again recovered. "What was he doing there?"

Billy sighed, rolling his eyes..a lot. Mary had gone back to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. She opened it and took a drink, still waiting for his answer. Looking at him as he sighed once more, she frowned. "Billy, don't be obnoxious."

"He's not noxious.." came Eric, uncertainly to Billy's rescue.

Billy was silent, and Mary was about to scold him when Eric stood up. "He was doing secret under the covers business."

Mary blinked, glad she hadn't been drinking, or she would have choked.

"He was what?"

"Under cover.." came Billy, dourly. Mary nodded a little, quite relieved.

"Yeah, yeah.." said Eric, waving Billy off. "He's hiding from the Federal Bureau of Infestation." This was said with an air of importance.

"You mean Investigation.."

At this, Billy shook his head, grinning. "That's what I thought too, but Ez said Infestation."

Mary pondered this.

"Ezra said they're worser than a bunch of locos.."

"Locusts.." Billy corrected.

"Whatever!" Eric agreed. "But now we're his deputy under the covers agents."

"Under cover.." Both Billy and Mary said it this time. Eric huffed. "Just 'member that you're not 'posed to tell anyone."

Now it was Mary's turn to be indignant. "I would never!"

Billy gave his mother a surprisingly scrutinizing look and Mary sighed. "You know I wouldn't tell anyone unless it were very important."

This seemed to appease the boys and they nodded, headed back for their Playstation game. Mary made the rest of dinner..wondering what in God's name Ezra was doing at her son's school. She smirked a little..she had wanted a break..and so here it was. Of course she wouldn't say anything unless it was important; however, her son's and her ideas of 'important' differed somewhat. But..she was a journalist..what could they expect? Of course she was going to leap on this chance to get something out of the ATF. Already the article was coming together, and titles as well...she would be up late tonight.


	3. A Difference of Opinions

"This isn't even about Standish, this is about you trying to annoy Chris. I'm -asking- you to leave the men alone." Orin stressed.

Mary wasn't about to relent. She had worked too long and too hard on this project. Her editor had wanted to know all there was to know about the new team the ATF had developed; what their Undercover agent was doing in a school, and Mary was exhausting all her resources on doing just that. Orin; however, was proving little help, in fact he was hindering her quest for the truth. This quest had become an obsession since she had taken a full time position as an investigative reporter, and since she had met -most- of the team that had accomplished what so many others had not.

"Why? How can you trust them? -How- do you trust Standish? A man with no past, and Larabee, a man totally devoid of emotion."

"Mary, Chris feels just as much as either of us."

Mary snorted, shaking her head. Somehow, she doubted that..highly. Not only was that man a cold, dark, insufferable brute to begin with, but he had no care to stand still for thirty seconds and answer some simple questions about his work. After all, the team had only come together a few months ago, and already they had uncovered and destroyed the largest drug ring in the state. That was no minor feat. The family that had run this ring had been the ones responsible for the situation Jonathan had found himself in, the situation he had died in. For the years since his death, Mary had been searching for evidence on them, seeking to discredit them publicly, but to no avail. Team Seven showed up, and 'ta da'! Everything comes out in a matter of weeks and several key people are suddenly incarcerated.

Apparently, this had quite a bit to do with Ezra P. Standish, their undercover official, who she was simply not allowed access to. There were no pictures of the man anywhere she could find, no history, not bill records, nothing! It was as if he had been born..and that was it. No other trace that he had even existed, and even the birth certificate had looked strange. Mary's informants and resources were quite extensive for a journalist, even of her caliber. All of them, had failed.

She couldn't even meet with Ezra and ask him how he had been able to do the things he did, because the Team Leader, Christopher Larabee, wouldn't allow it. He had no concern that her readers were very interested in the facts, and what had led to this victory. Hell, he should have been celebrating, shouting from the rooftops what he and his team had been able to do, but no. Larabee just sat behind his desk and told her 'no' over and over. He was an infuriating man, and she was determined to dig something up, about Ezra, just to rankle the man. He had been quite sure that she would find nothing, and that it would remain that way. She, was of the opinion it was only a matter of time before someone slipped up and let the cat out of the bag. She had hoped that a well-fed, tired Orin would be the one...but again, no.

"He's had tragedy in his life too, just like you." came Orin again.

That stopped Mary mid-thought. She froze, her blue eyes going just slightly cold, like a lake barely iced over from the first freeze of winter. Her fork stopped in mid-air, and she pursed her lips together. "Not just like me. Mr. Larabee and I have nothing in common."

She was quite certain of that. Well; that was partly a lie. Chris Larabee had lost a wife and child in an arson's fire about seven years ago. He had been out, reputedly drinking, when an enemy of his had taken it into their fool head to torch the house. The details were sketchy, but Mary knew all she needed to know, and while she could understand some of Larabee's attitude, it didn't excuse him.

"Mary..he lost his wife -and- son.."

Mary's hand clenched, and she had to put her fork down altogether. There it was again. Everyone she had known, who knew this, had been oh-so-sympathetic to the black clad man, and his obvious pain. He had lost his wife, a terrible thing in and of itself, but then God had seen fit to take his child as well. Mary could understand, and even empathize to an extent, the thought of living without Billy was beyond comprehension of course, but damnit! When were people going to realize the man had lost all the emotion he had previously had! Without that emotion, he was remorseless, careless, and in charge of the lives of six other people! This seemed wrong. Even the most crass and caustic of team leaders showed a modicum of concern when their team members were injured, or killed. In the latest stunt pulled by Team Seven, Buck Wilmington had been shot in the shoulder, and Chris hadn't batted an eye. Reportedly, Chris hadn't even gone to see Buck until the man was halfway recovered and at home!

It also didn't help that since people felt so sorry for Chris, they were not only willing to excuse his behavior, but they would constantly compare his pain to Mary's own suffering and come to the 'obvious' conclusion that Mary had gotten the better deal. That..simply made her sick to her stomach.

"He's a good Team Lead, and a hell of an agent. I don't want you picking him, or his men, apart."

Since Orin was the Assistant Director of the ATF, it would have been rather wise to heed his words, but that wasn't Mary's way. She hadn't gotten to see the truth; it had to be exposed, she had to know all there was to know. Not knowing how the murderers of her husband were brought down was driving her insane. Especially because she had, had nothing to do with it. She hadn't helped in any way, and that was a chance she would never get back. She would never be able to avenge Jonathan, and that cut to the core too. Suddenly, she felt ill, and she sat back in her chair. Orin mistakenly took this as resignation. "You're beginning to understand then."

Mary narrowed her sharp gaze at her father-in-law. "I -understood- the moment I learned of his loss. However; my point is still valid. A man so emotionally deprived should not be in charge of the lives of other men."

"They trust him too. In their shoes, I'd make the same choice."

"I don't see why."

"You don't have to, you aren't in their position are you?" he demanded, fiercely.

For some reason that stung.

"I don't have to be in their position to know that you're dealing with a near-sociopath."

"Here's how serious I am, Mary. If Jonathan were alive, I'd trust Larabee to get him out of any situation, and safely home. If Larabee had been leading the task force Jonathan was in, he would have lived."

Mary shot from her seat and glared daggers into Orin. Before she decided to trust her voice, she had to breathe. Luckily, Billy had abandoned the table a while ago, in search of games to play on the playstation that Orin kept for him. He had another at home, but Orin did like to spoil the child, and Mary was inclined to let him because she couldn't.

"This conversation is over."

"So you'll leave Standish alone, and back off of Larabee's nerves?"

Mary's back stiffened and her shoulders were set in clear defiance. Orin groaned, shaking his head. "I thought I might ask at least."

"If my digging into Standish is getting on Mr. Larabee's nerves, then perhaps he should just give me what I want."

"Which is?"

"The truth."

Orin shook his head again. "No matter how noble you believe your cause to be, Chris won't let anything slip that he doesn't want known. And he doesn't want anyone of the press familiar with Standish. He's their undercover agent for God's sake!"

"I'm aware. I'm not going to publish his name and picture Orin..I just want some background, to know where he comes from, what his credentials are. I want to know why he's such a slippery cuss on all the computer systems."

"You wouldn't be able to publish any of it, even if you did know."

"I know more than you think."

"You just want to know how he got into the Faust Family." he replied dismissively.

Mary kept her mouth shut, no sense in letting the cat out of the bag yet. Orin sighed with resignation this time. He couldn't keep arguing with her about this. Mary seemed to sense this, and she picked up her plate and headed to the kitchen. Placing it in the sink, and rinsing it, she moved back to the dining room and sighed. Unfortunately; she wasn't sorry for anything she had done, or said, so she didn't bother lying. She went to the livingroom where her mother-in-law was watching Billy play his game, and cleared her throat.

"Come on, Billy. We've got to get home." With him, her voice was cool, but mostly normal. Billy, being the perceptive child he was, made no argument and turned the game off. Hugging and kissing his grandparents, the eleven year old grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Mary grabbed her suit jacket and pulled it on, following him and heading out to the car. Into the Civic they went, and Mary started the car. Billy remained quiet for the drive home.

Mary immediately began to regret the things she had said in there. Orin didn't deserve to have his brain picked, and Billy didn't deserve to be so subdued all the time. She was a horrid mother, a terrible person for putting so much pressure on them all. She reached over and ruffled his hair, smiling wanly. "I'm sorry, Billy. I had no right to ruin your evening like that."

Billy looked up at her and smiled warmly. Children were so sweet and forgiving..but they didn't stay that way forever. She kept her hand on his shoulder as she drove. He was her only comfort, her sanity. The only reason she bore living in the world a moment after Jonathan had been buried was because of their child. Billy needed her, and she wouldn't abandon him. No, she wouldn't leave him, not like his father had.

She winced inside herself. Jonathan hadn't -meant- to leave after all. He hadn't meant to leave them alone, lost, and mourning. Still, the damage had been done, and without the people responsible to blame, she had no one left to be angry at, except Jonathan and herself. She was angry at herself most of the time, so she turned her rage onto Jonathan at times, and that wasn't fair, whether he was dead or not. He had loved her, loved his son, and he had been taken away from them by force, before his time. Of course, if one believed God to be the All Knowing, All Powerful, then it would be assumed that Jonathan was supposed to die that day. Mary couldn't possibly comprehend, or believe, this ridiculous idea. Why would God cause such pain? It wasn't as if their lives had taken a divine turn for the better. Far from it...in fact, one would have to run towards the other side of the spectrum. Instead of their nice, comfortable house, Billy and Mary had to live in an apartment. The city was always dangerous, but she had to live there because of where she worked, and the amount of money she was paid. She was no doctor or police officer, but if there was breaking news in the middle of the night and her editor caught wind of it, she was phoned and told to head out to where ever and make sure she got all the details. -That- had been happening a lot lately, too often in fact, for her taste, but it was money and she needed it, with Billy's birthday coming up.

Her train of thought switched again as she continued, heading toward their apartment. Larabee..why did the man infuriate her so much? There was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way, he was too cold...so superior. She pursed her lips again. She was becoming riled, just thinking about him.

What she needed to do was apologize to Orin, and take him out to lunch. She nodded to herself. Yes, she needed to do that. She couldn't alienate Orin from her life..that would hurt Billy too much, and she was rather fond of her father-in-law too. She just wouldn't ask Orin Travis any more questions about Team Seven. That didn't mean she had to stop digging completely. But; what was it about Larabee that had all these people so loyal to him?

She pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex and shook herself again. She had to quit obsessing about the man and the ire he was able to raise within her. Concentrate on making up with Orin, that was the important thing.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It was published and on news stands by Monday, entitled: A Lawful Education. Since the ATF's newest undercover agent was roaming the halls of public schools, surely the parents and other community members deserved to know what was going on, and who this person was. It was met with mixed reviews.

Mary's boss loved it, and loved her, and bestowed upon her a small bonus for her diligent efforts. Also, it went over rather famously with the FBI who was in search of their ex-agent and moved on him the following day. That was the extent of the good news.

Orin was so furious that he wouldn't eat dinner as was the weekly tradition, and left his wife to eat with Billy and Mary while he took his own meal upstairs in their room. Eric was unhappy that he had been the cause of some of this, and had cried, which had made Mary feel horrid. Billy was not speaking to her, and no matter how much she begged, pleaded, or threatened, he refused to speak a single word. He was angry, very angry. When Ezra had finally been released, the following Wednesday, he had called Mary to thank her for ruining their case with so many of those terms he loved to use that she couldn't help that her temper rose and she slammed the phone down, hopefully to the detriment of his ear. Still..no matter how much she disliked him, she felt bad. Rumor had it that the FBI agents had taken certain, violent liberties with their old comrade. Indeed, Ezra had sounded a bit nasal on the phone.

Mary hoped that the rest of the team would stay out of it, and that the whole thing would blow over in time. She was a journalist. This was her job, this was what put bread and water on the table for Billy and herself..but she knew these to be paltry excuses, and yet..she had become ruthless. It was in the midst of her next article about Ezra when she recieved a visit. In the middle of a sentence, there was commotion at the front of the room. Mary paid it no mind, as stacks of paper falling over wasn't uncommon when you had a new intern, and they did. She stared at her computer screen, lost for a moment in her own thoughts.

_The undercover specialist of Team Seven has proven himself a capable agent; but what do we truly know about him? To put our faith in the hands of this-_

And here the cursor continued to blink. She needed a term, or a combination of terms, that was glowing, and yet insulting, all at once.

"How about 'capricious prince of cowardice'?" came a heavily accented drawl, just slightly nasal.

Paying the stranger no mind, nor the fact that someone was looking over her shoulder, a fact that would normally anger any reporter, Mary began to nod. It would have to do, as she could think of nothing else. It was rather large for the everyday citizen, but..she began typing it. "Thank you." she said, heedlessly.

"My pleasure." came the southern accent again, this time dripping with sarcasm.

Realization was knocked loose, and Mary turned in her chair. Behind her was Ezra, complete with black eye and broken nose, and his Team Leader, Chris. Larabee looked incensed. Mary pulled her surprise, and alarm, behind her cool mask of indifference. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

Larabee moved to confront Mary as she stood to receive them. She arched a brow, though she was incredibly frightened by that deadly look in his eye. When she had seen him that first day, he had judged her, as not a threat..yet. Now, she had obviously become a threat, and she was about to find out how Chris dealt with such things. "Sit down, Ms. Travis."

Larabee's command was so intent that Mary could not find it within her to disobey. His voice was hard, and cold, and very very angry. This quiet anger scared her. Sitting slowly, she glared up at him. Who was he to treat her no better than a child who needed a scolding? She was a grown woman, with a son and she would not tolerate this!

"I have been patient with you, Ms. Travis, but you have reached the limit of it. You endangered one of my men..and maybe he isn't the most likeable-" This brought an indignant look from Ezra, though he winced because of his nose. "-but he is one of mine, and as such, under my protection. You compromised that protection, and the security of the rest of my men, not to mention ruining my damned case! Not only that, but you then betrayed the trust of a little boy and another young man whom we both know and its no surprise that he isn't talking to you."

Mary stood up again, hands clenched be her sides. "How dare you-" she tried, but Chris was having none of it. He shook his head curtly, glaring her into silence. "No, how dare -you-?" There was silence between them for a moment, and Mary was too intent on Chris to notice the smug smile starting on Standish's lips. Chris advanced again, backing Mary up against her desk.

"Compromise one of my men again, and there will be severe repercussions..this is your warning." A deadly growl that warned away any thought of retort. With that, he walked off. Ezra watched him for a moment, then looked at Mary with something akin to disapproval. "It took Buck this entire week to talk him into giving you a warning, Ms. Travis, I hope you are thankful for his efforts. I'm sure Mr. Larabee's anger will pass in time, and soon you can pick our brains again, but until then, I would focus my attention on making this up to your son, were I you."

The audacity! Before she could say a word, Ezra was gone, and she was left, mouth hanging open, practically sitting on her keyboard.

But what could she really say? They were correct. She had acted merely for her own benefit, and with no thought to the consequences on others. And she had betrayed her son..and that was the worst of all. Sighing, she sat..and deleted the latest Standish article.


End file.
